Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

Ros. 'Ware pencils! How! Let me not die your debtor,

My red dominical, my golden letter.

O that your face were not so full of O's!

Kath. A pox of that jest! And beshrew all shrows! Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Dumain? Kath. Madam, this glove.

Prin.

Did he not send you twain? Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover,

Some thousand verses of a faithful lover;
A huge translation of hypocrisy,

Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville; The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart, The chain were longer, and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Birón I'll torture ere I go.

O that I knew he were but in by the week! 2
How I would make him fawn, and beg and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes;
And shape his service wholly to my behests;

And make him proud to make me proud that jests!3
So potent-like would I o'ersway his state,

4

That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catched,

As wit turned fool. Folly, in wisdom hatched,

1 She advises Katharine to beware of drawing likenesses, lest she should retaliate.

2 This is an expression taken from the hiring of servants; meaning, "I wish I knew that he was in love with me, or my servant," as the phrase is. 3 The meaning of this obscure line seems to be,-I would make him proud to flatter me, who make a mock of his flattery.

4 The old copies read pertaunt-like. The modern editions read, with Sir T. Hanmer, portent-like,

VOL. II.

18

Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school;
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note, As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; Since all the power thereof it doth apply,

To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Enter BOYET.

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. O, I am stabbed with laughter! Where's her grace?

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet.

Arm, wenches, arm!

Against your peace.

Prepare, madam, prepare!Encounters mounted are

Love doth approach disguised,

Armed in arguments. You'll be surprised:

Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Prin. Saint Dennis to saint Cupid! What are
they,

That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore,

I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addressed
The king and his companions. Warily

I stole into a neighbor thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear;
That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty, knavish page,
That well by heart hath conned his embassage.
Action, and accent, did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear;
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majestical would put him out;
For, quoth the king, an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.

The boy replied, An angel is not evil;

I should have feared her, had she been a devil.

With that all laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder;

Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.

One rubbed his elbow, thus; and fleered, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before;
Another, with his finger and his thumb,

Cried, Via! we will do't, come what will come :
The third he capered, and cried, All goes well;
The fourth turned on the toe, and down he fell.
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous 1 appears,
To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
Boyet. They do, they do; and are appareled thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians. As I guess,
The purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance;
And every one his love-feat will advance

Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favors several, which they did bestow.

Prin. And will they so? The gallants shall be tasked;

For, ladies, we will every one be masked;

And not a man of them shall have the grace,

Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.—

Hold, Rosaline, this favor thou shalt wear;

And then the king will court thee for his dear;

Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine;

So shall Birón take me for Rosaline.

And change your favors too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

1 Spleen ridiculous is a ridiculous fit of laughter. The spleen was anciently supposed to be the cause of laughter.

2 In the first year of K. Henry VIII. at a banquet made for the foreign ambassadors in the parliament chamber at Westminster, "came the Lorde Henry Earle of Wiltshire and the Lorde Fitzwater, in two long gownes of yellow satin traversed with white satin, and in every bend of white was a bend of crimosen sattin after the fashion of Russia or Ruslande, with furred hattes of grey on their hedes, either of them havyng an hatchet in their handes, and bootes with pykes turned up."-Hall, Henry VIII, p. 6.

Ros. Come on, then; wear the favors most in sight.
Kath. But, in this changing, what is
your intent?
Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs.
They do it but in mocking merriment;

And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook; and so be mocked withal,
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages displayed, to talk and greet.

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot;
Nor to their penned speech render we no grace;
But while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face.
Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's
heart,

And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt, The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown; To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own. So shall we stay, mocking intended game; And they, well mocked, depart away with shame. [Trumpets sound within. Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be masked; the mask[The ladies mask.

ers come.

Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAville, and DUMAIN, in
Russian habits, and masked; MOTH, Musicians, and
Attendants.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.1

Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames,

[The ladies turn their backs to him.

That ever turned their-backs-to mortal views!

Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

Moth. That ever turned their eyes to mortal views! Out

1 i. e. the taffeta masks they wore.

Boyet. True; out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favors, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold—

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, -with your sun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings

me out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? Begone, you rogue. Ros. What would these strangers? Know their minds, Boyet.

If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the princess?
Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
Ros. What would they, say they?

Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.
King. Say to her we have measured many miles,
To tread a measure with her on this grass.

Boyet. They say that they have measured many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile; if they have measured many,

The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measured miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell

How many inches do fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears herself.

Ros.

How many weary steps,

Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,

Are numbered in the travel of one mile?

1 A grave, solemn dance, with slow and measured steps, like the minuet.